The conductor's radio crackled. It wasn't the police or the station master on the other end. It was the voice of the man who had supposedly died in the wreckage three years ago, broadcasting from the engine room. He wasn't looking for revenge; he was looking for an audience.

The steam whistle didn’t scream; it rattled, like air escaping a punctured lung.

Alana, now a weary paramedic, only boarded because her younger brother, Leo, had sneaked onto the guest list for a "Survivor’s Ball" themed party. The gimmick? Everyone had to wear masks based on urban legends.

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